


Stockings

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet written for valar_morekinks. Jon appreciates everything she wears, but sometimes something special inspires just the right reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stockings

Jon arched an eyebrow with interest as Sansa plopped down beside him, draping her legs across his lap. The mischievous glint in her eyes raised his suspicions, but it was hard to stay wary when she rested her hand high on his jean-clad thigh.  
  
“Do you like my stockings?”

He ran his hand up the embroidered white lace, soft beneath his touch- until he met her skin, ivory skin that was softer still, silken to the touch. “They’re lovely. But touching you is lovelier.”

Jon smiled softly, leaning closer until Sansa could feel his breath hot against her lips and then the sliver of space between them closed as Jon pressed closer. The kiss was soft and undemanding, a gentle press of lips to lips meant to convey more affection than attraction. But even with that simple contact, a heat stirred between them, and when Jon moved to pull away a few moments later, Sansa cupped her hand behind his head, eager to feel more of that heat’s intensity.

Jon shuddered and suddenly that simple kiss became something more, heat steadily rising into a smoldering inferno. It was the kind of kiss that sharpened the ache inside, the kind of ache no other man had made her feel, the kind of ache that could easily be stoked into a hunger. Wanting, scintillating sexual hunger, the kind of lust she had no defense against, lust that ripped and tormented, satisfied and still left aching.

Jon’s hands were everywhere, stroking her back, her shoulders, her arms, her hair, her hips, downward to lavish her thighs with long, teasing caresses. She was numbly aware of her back meeting the couch, concentrating instead on the masculine body above, the delicious press of him against her and the friction of his hips aligning with hers.

She ran her hands down his back, beckoned by the warmth soaking through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, desire to touch sparking as she slid her hands beneath the hem, marveling at the contrast between the warm, smooth skin and the hard muscles beneath her fingertips.

It wasn’t long before he had her reduced to a trembling, wanting mass of molten heat ready to melt from sheer desire at the slightest touch, and he descended her body, circling his tongue around her navel, sucking at her hipbone, before finally coming to the core of her. He parted slick folds with his thumb and licked into her, swathing a path from her labia to her clit.  
  
His tongue hooked under the hood of the little nub, and a quick flick of the muscle sent a ripple of incredible sensation ricocheting up her spine, her back arching off the sofa cushions as he slid two fingers inside her and stroked against the bundle of nerves he found there.

She made a mental note to buy more lace stockings before coherent thought was utterly lost to the haze of pleasure elicited by his touch.


End file.
